


Remember Zion

by romanticalgirl



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-13
Updated: 2009-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:51:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sky is changing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember Zion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Porn Battle VIII](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/10575.html#cutid1) \- prompt: Gen Kill, Brad/Nate, garden
> 
> Originally posted 6-13-09

Brad hasn’t said a word the entire ride to Al Hillah, ignoring most of the back and forth banter and staring out the window at the same countryside, the same desert. Nate watches him from the other side of the cheap ass bus they commandeered, surprised at how relaxed he feels, his arms draped over the seats on either side of him, his back to the metal. Brad would berate him, he knows, for not keeping an eye on the surrounding territory, but today feels too much like they’re anywhere but at war that Nate can’t seem to muster up the necessary moto bullshit.

They disembark the bus and find their guide, a busful of macho goddamned Marines walking around like awed school children, the reality of what this place holds in history falling down on their shoulders like the ruins they’re walking through. Nate’s classics studies come back, ancient stories and conquerors, wars raged and fought on the same soil they’re standing on, the latest in a long line of avenging warriors.

Most of the guys are quiet, walking with respect and listening intently to their guide, but Nate can’t help notice Brad at the back of their pack, lagging a few feet behind. Nate slows, letting everyone pass him until he’s next to Brad, falling in step with him. “It’s pretty amazing, huh?”

“What? That man can create something beautiful and destroy it?” Brad grins wolfishly. “That’s just human nature, LT. Nothing amazing about that.”

“You always do find the silver lining, don’t you, Brad?”

“That’s me. Mary fucking Sunshine.”

Nate laughs and realizes that they’ve fallen even farther back. “Are we in some sort of fall back position? Is this a tactical maneuver?”

“No, sir.” Brad turns his head and gives Nate a long look, his eyes glinting hot even in the shade. “Well, that’s not entirely true. It is quite possible that I may have employed a certain sense of strategy in getting you to let the rest of the group go on ahead of us, leaving the two of us completely alone in this relatively deserted area full of nooks, crannies and, if I’m not mistaken, actual fucking hidey-holes.”

“Hidey-holes, Sergeant.” Nate nods sagely, barely suppressing his grin. “No shit.”

“No shit, sir.” Brad adjusts his stride, cutting slightly in front of Nate so that he has to angle against the huge stone wall, laughing as he doesn’t quite dodge out of Brad’s way and they end up nearly tangled together, Nate against the wall and Brad against him. “In fact, I think I see one.”

“Do you.” Nate’s breath is shallow, tight in his chest as he looks up at Brad. They’ve played dangerous games before, though usually under the cover of darkness, hidden by ranger graves and berms. Here, in the shade of the brilliant sunlight, surrounded by ancient history, it feels even riskier.

“You know, those ancients were a bunch of sodomites. Greeks, Romans, Assyrians, Babylonians, Macedonians, Persians. Just a bunch of fudge-packing homos, screwing slaves and relatives and just about anybody they could find willing to bend over. It’s a grand fucking tradition, sir.”

Nate bites back a laugh, smiling up at Brad’s earnest expression. “Are you asking me to condone sodomy, Sergeant? In the name of tradition and history?”

“I’m asking, sir, for your explicit permission to turn you around in this goddamned hidey-hole, use this fucking hand lotion I stole from some pansy ass dick suck in Delta, and imitate some of our great warrior forefathers. Alexander the Great. Fucking Hammurabi. An eye for an eye, sir, and a hand job for the opportunity to fuck you into some ancient wall and have you choking out my name while your fingers scrape against dirt older than recorded history.”

“Oh. Well. In that case.” Nate huffs a laugh, unable to hold it in this time, though it’s actually less of a laugh than a breathless gasp of undisguised want. He licks his lips and watches Brad’s eyes narrow, focus on his tongue and the wetness it leaves behind. “Permission granted, Sergeant.”

Brad growls low and rough as he half-guides, half-shoves Nate into one of the shallow depressions in the stone wall. It’s secluded from both sides, but not from head-on, and Nate can’t help but turn his head and watch, wondering what exactly he would say or do if someone happened to cross their path and glance their way. Thoughts of anyone else are driven from his mind as Brad’s hand catches his hip while the other slides up from the small of Nate’s back toward his neck, pushing him against the wall. Nate braces himself, spreading his legs as Brad snakes a hand around Nate’s waist to undo his fatigues.

“Delta’s good for one thing at least, sir.” Brad’s voice is thick, barely contained hunger fanning along Nate’s throat. “Brought condoms and fucking lube to the desert like Ray told them there’d be a bunch of fucking Thai whores waiting in their Humvees. Offer them a fucking lesson with 40 Mike Mike and they’re practically creaming themselves to give over whatever they’ve got.”

“Don’t care what they’ve got,” Nate glances back at Brad, his breath coming in short gasps already as Brad’s chest lays against his back, the small area filled with the rip of foil, the snap of latex, the slide of lotion. “Only care about what you’ve got.”

“Bullshit, sir.” Brad chuckles deep in his throat, the sound reverberating along Nate’s spine. “You care about what I’m going to give you.” Up until now, it’s been watching each other jerk off, dirty talk and hand jobs and one furtive, desperate blow job after the burning dog of Al Kut. Nate’s relived that night a million times in the short time since it happened, and the only way he manages to sleep after is remembering the feel of Brad’s dick thick against his tongue, making himself suck harder and deeper until he felt the heat of Brad’s orgasm choke him and then sucking even harder until Brad forced him to stop.

This is different. This is a slow and deliberate attack, Brad’s mouth too close to Nate’s neck, his tongue licking and sucking the sweat-layer of salt from Nate’s skin as he whispers exactly what he’s doing. Nate’s body is hot and flushed, he feels swollen, like his fatigue jacket and the pants shoved down to his knees are too tight against his skin as Brad’s fingers graze over his ass, warm lotion soothing against his skin.

“Tell me you want it, Nate.”

“Fuck.” He pants roughly, trying to spread his legs further. His hips roll back, searching for the pressure of Brad’s finger, aching for it. “Brad.”

“Tell me.”

“Want it.”

Brad laughs like he’s having a grand old time. “Want what, sir?”

Nate bites back a frustrated groan and arches his back, ass sliding against Brad’s hand, his fingers grazing Nate’s balls as his palm cups Nate’s ass. “Fuck me, Sergeant.”

“You know, I’m thinking maybe I don’t want an order.” Brad squeezes Nate’s balls and Nate rises up on his toes, the muscles in his legs tightening along with Brad’s grip. “Maybe I want you to ask nicely.”

Nate’s head falls back onto Brad’s shoulder, his breath rough and loud in the small space, stirring the short hair just above Brad’s ear. “God _damn_ it, Brad,” he pants. “Fucking _fuck_ me. Please.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth, sir?” Brad presses a finger against Nate’s opening and Nate tenses, struggling to even out his breathing as the pressure builds and builds and then releases, his whole body shivering as Brad starts thrusting slowly, one finger pushing deeper.

Nate reaches back, catching Brad’s neck and bringing his head down, crushing their mouths together. It’s as much of an answer as Nate can muster, and he’s rewarded with the steady thrust of Brad’s hand, palm curved against Nate’s ass as his finger presses deeper. Nate’s hips rock back on instinct and Brad moans into the kiss, pushing another finger against Nate’s flesh before sliding it inside him.

“F-fuck.” Nate breaks the kiss to gasp, his head falling forward as he sucks in dry, hot air that chokes his lungs. He arches his back, opening himself up more to Brad, who takes advantage of the shift of position to thrust his fingers deeper. Nate bites his lower lip hard to keep from making any noise, feeling the blood pound against his tongue as he sucks it into his mouth.

“So fucking tight, sir.” Brad’s fingers are long and slim and skilled, pushing deep inside Nate until all Nate can see are stars lighting up behind his eyelids. His body trembles with every breath and he hits his head hard on the wall as Brad works a third finger in, crooking them all slightly before pushing them out straight, causing Nate’s hips to jerk hard. “Fuck, Nate.”

“Brad.” It’s a full out surrender, a plea that Nate owns completely and Brad huffs a shaky breath in response. Nate whimpers when he pulls his fingers free, aching from the loss, but then Brad’s against him, his cock hard and insistent, pressing firmly until Nate’s body opens up to him, the burn causing Nate’s cock to flag. His fingers dig into the stone and dirt, his body racked with every breath as Brad fills him, not moving beyond the pulse of his body, but even that feels like enough to send Nate tumbling over the edge. Nate drops a hand to his hip and pounds against it, measuring out heartbeats and breaths until he manages a nod, bracing himself once more as Brad begins to move.

Nate’s mind is blank, flooded with sensations he can’t quite process, swirling in his head until everything separates out into things he understands. Heat and pressure and hard and grip and breath and _Brad_. His cock comes to life as Brad finds his rhythm, every thrust driving deeper and sending a surge to Nate’s groin until he’s fully hard again. He bows his head, watching his body move with the force of Brad’s strokes, watching the slick shine of pre-come threaten at the head of his cock. He’s beyond thought and lost in feeling, his body focused on the driving force of Brad pushing deeper inside him.

“Y-yes.” Nate manages softly, breathing the word in answer to some unasked question. Brad moans, the sound buried against Nate’s neck and one of his hands slips free from Nate’s hip and slides around, fisting around Nate’s cock. Lotion glints against his skin and then Brad’s thumb slides over the drop of pre-come, smoothing it over the head and down, and Nate bites his knuckle to stifle a groan as his body responds, pushing back against Brad’s thrusts before riding forward to fuck his fist.

“Fuck, Nate. Fuck, yes.” Brad’s whispering against Nate’s ear, his voice just as hot as his body, as his hand. “So fucking tight. So fucking…fuck.” Brad turns his head, breath hot, nothing between them. “So _perfect_ , Nate.”

Nate’s shudders, his breath stuttering against his skin as Brad bites at Nate’s neck, teeth barely grazing, but it’s enough to push Nate over the edge, his orgasm pulsing hot against Brad’s palm, his fingers. His body aches to slump forward, but he’s still caught by Brad’s hands, holding him back hard against him as Brad pushes impossibly deep and comes, the combination sending Nate into sensory overload, his knees nearly giving out.

They don’t move except to breathe for a long time, the outside world coming back in trickles until the sound of voices starts to echo against the stone and Brad pulls away, holding Nate’s hip as he eases out of him. Nate’s leans against the wall for another moment before standing up and adjusting his uniform, giving Brad a sidelong glance as he stuffs the condom, foil and lotion in a pocket of his deuce gear. “You think defiling one of their ancient relics and one of the seven wonders of the ancient world qualifies us as godless heathens?”

“Nate, we came to this country and blew people up with pretty much no rhyme or fucking reason. I think this isn’t going to be a blip on their fucking radar.”

“Fair enough.” Nate squints out at the sunshine and then nods to the rest of the team. “So what are the odds that one of us could get blown on Processional Way?”

“Sir, you get the rest of the guys up to Saddam’s castle, and I’ll fuck you on the Lion of Babylon.”

“We’re going to hell.”

“Yeah.” Brad nods and starts along the pathway again. “Or we would be if either of us actually believed in it.”

“You have a point, Sergeant.” Nate laughs and falls in step, perfectly content with the knowledge that he’s going to regret all the walking later. “A very good point.”  



End file.
